Why Was the Miami Vice Pilot So Good?

As a long-time fan of television and film, I have to say that my personal opinion about Miami Vice is one of admiration and appreciation for its groundbreaking style and diversity. Growing up, I was captivated by the show’s unique blend of music, imagery, and character development, which seemed to me like nothing else on TV at the time.

Television productions that resembled cinema didn’t start with “Game of Thrones,” “True Detective,” “Mad Men,” “The Sopranos,” or even “Twin Peaks.” Instead, it all began in September 1984 when Miami Vice premiered on NBC. This show about a cop duo, one with salt-and-pepper hair, was so captivating and hard to resist that other networks spent lavishly to create shows similar to it and keep up with its weekly fashion statements, luxurious cars, and eye-catching boats. Men worldwide adopted Sonny Crockett’s signature style: Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, a sports coat over a pastel T-shirt, slip-on shoes without socks, and a bit of stubble. The style became so trendy that in 1986, Wahl, a home-grooming company, introduced the Stubble Device – an electric trimmer designed for minimal shaving. Originally named Miami De-Vice, it was rechristened to avoid legal issues.

Written by Anthony Yerkovich, directed by Thomas Carter, and overseen by executive producer Michael Mann, the series “Vice” was primarily marketed as a police procedural: Crockett is a covert agent operating in Miami who teams up with Ricardo Tubbs (Philip Michael Thomas), a New York detective seeking to bring down a Colombian drug lord responsible for his brother’s death. However, it offered more than just its storyline. It was a contemporary reinterpretation of classic crime fiction during the Reagan era, focusing on morally complex characters who were disillusioned with life yet eager to protect the innocent (Crockett, for instance, had a strong resemblance to Bogart heroes in his smoking habit). Unfortunately, they often witnessed the tragic demise of these innocents. The show also provided a gritty depiction of the War on Drugs and critiqued the domestic and foreign policies that perpetuated it, drawing inspiration from real events occurring in the 1980s involving arms dealing and trafficking. Above all, “Vice” was characterized by its stylish presentation.

The initial episode of “Miami Vice,” spanning approximately 97 minutes (extended with commercials to two hours), was broadcast on traditional television, yet it seemed as if it belonged on the silver screen. This captivating, postmodern neo-noir echoed films like Paul Schrader’s “American Gigolo,” Mann’s “Thief,” and Brian DePalma’s Miami-set remake of “Scarface” (with which “Vice” was frequently compared). The show also drew inspiration from the glossy, sexy, and violent Hollywood productions directed by British TV advertisement masters who had moved to America in the late ’70s and early ’80s, including Alan Parker (“Midnight Express”), Ridley Scott (“Blade Runner”), Tony Scott (“The Hunger”), and Adrian Lyne (“Flashdance”). The influence of MTV, which emerged in 1981 and popularized a music video aesthetic emphasizing striking moments over traditional narrative storytelling, was also evident.

In this blend of styles, various elements coalesced to form an aesthetic that eventually became known as “cocaine chic,” with visuals reminiscent not just of movie scenes but also standalone graphic images suitable for display in a gallery alongside works by Patrick Nagel. Each image offered a twisted sort of escape – a grim fantasy portraying Miami as a seductive, sensual battleground adorned with glass skyscrapers, cobalt pools, and pastel hues. Occasionally, the villains escaped justice, while innocent lives were lost pointlessly. The city was populated more by ex-lovers than lovers. Vice’s portrayal of Miami featured relentless rain, thunderous gunfire, intense sexual encounters, and hauntingly beautiful individuals with troubled expressions.

Carter, another alumnus from Hill Street Blues, explains, “It can be challenging for those outside our profession to grasp this, but a show doesn’t materialize until it’s produced. It may seem like common sense now that Don Johnson was the ideal choice for Crockett and Philip Michael Thomas for Tubbs, and that Miami Vice was this revolutionary series brimming with innovative ideas. However, the Miami Vice we recognize today – with its stylish suits, fast cars, vibrant colors, music, and all – did not exist until it was brought to life.

The reason ‘Miami Vice’ seemed so cinematic is that the story was initially envisioned as a theatrical production. Back in 1983, Tony Yerkovich, aged 32, was developing it under titles like ‘Dade County’ and ‘Gold Coast’, as part of a deal he had with MCA/Universal. His primary collaborator at the time was Kerry McCluggage, a 28-year-old creative powerhouse from Universal Television. McCluggage, who had previously overseen projects like ‘Magnum, P.I.’, ‘Murder, She Wrote’, and ‘The A-Team’, recruited Yerkovich based on his work on ‘Hill Street Blues’. The script for ‘Miami Vice’ was initially considered as a feature film until Frank Price, the president of Universal’s film division, gave the go-ahead for DePalma’s ‘Scarface’ remake. This posed a potential conflict since both ‘Scarface’ and ‘Miami Vice’ were Miami neo-noir crime dramas featuring Latin characters.

According to McCluggage, we dispatched Tony on a fact-finding mission to Miami, and upon his return, he was brimming with excitement about turning it into a series. Yerkovich shares an intriguing story of how the concept for Miami Vice as a television show took shape; he claims to have experienced a profound moment while sailing towards Miami on a boat linked to drug trafficking, possibly under the influence of hallucinogens. As they approached Miami, Yerkovich describes the city as if it were pulsating at a molecular level, similar to observing a leaf’s molecules vibrate with life. He saw Miami as vibrant pastels, almost as if they were alive. In July of ’83, with McCluggage and MCA/Universal president Robert Harris on board, Yerkovich pitched the idea as a weekly cop drama and soon began writing the pilot script.

Despite popular belief, Brandon Tartikoff, who passed away in 1997, did not originate the idea for “Miami Vice” by scribbling “MTV cops” on a napkin as is often claimed. In fact, the creators of the show – Yerkovich, Mann, McCluggage, and Carter – are still frustrated by Tartikoff’s attempts to take credit for the idea. Yerkovich clarifies that Tartikoff didn’t begin spreading this story about writing “MTV cops” on a napkin until at least 14 months after the initial pitch meeting.

During that period, Mann was engrossed in creating theatrical films, which eventually led him to branch out as writer, director, and producer of “Manhunter” (also known as Hannibal Lecter’s first screen appearance) in 1986. However, Harris sent him the script regardless, and Mann accepted the role of producer because he found the content captivating and relevant. Both Mann and Yerkovich shared a fascination with undercover officers who assumed “criminal” identities and used asset forfeiture to reinforce their deception by displaying seized cash, drugs, vehicles, boats, houses, etc. Mann’s interest in this topic was rooted in his background as an investigative journalist; he had traveled to gather information on smugglers and dealers for abandoned projects that were later adapted into plotlines for “Miami Vice”.

Mann shares his continuous fascination with the enigmatic wealth and Miami’s unique atmosphere. Back then, Miami served as a northern financial hub for illicit drug money, and its captivating aura, a blend of harsh reality and fleeting excitement, was irresistible to him. This is reminiscent of the world portrayed in “Miami Vice”, isn’t it? It’s about the climate, the sensuality, the imagery, the light – everything about it just resonates with you.

Michael Mann’s impact on the visual style of the show was significant, according to Yerkovich. He brought in Mel Bourne, renowned production designer of several visually striking American films from the 70s and 80s like Manhattan, Cocktail, Fatal Attraction, Mann’s Thief and Manhunter, to consult on Vice’s aesthetics. Additionally, he hired Jan Hammer, a Czech fusion-jazz keyboardist, to create fresh synth-driven instrumental music for every episode. According to Hammer, Mann was certain that the pilot would be chosen for series production.

Philip Michael Thomas expressed that upon reading Yerkovich’s script, he felt certain he had been chosen for a remarkable and enduring project (“It was like discovering the TV equivalent of the ancient pyramids of Egypt – something timeless”). As filming in Miami started in the spring of 1984, this feeling intensified.

McCluggage points out that Johnson initially struggled during the early stages of filming the pilot, as he found himself unintentionally mimicking Nick Nolte’s character from the popular movie “48 HRS.” To address this issue, McCluggage and Yerkovich visited Johnson in Miami to discuss his performance and suggest a different approach. Although the conversation was uncomfortable, Johnson was receptive, understanding that his portrayal seemed forced due to the Nolte imitation. After making some adjustments, everyone involved was satisfied with his improved performance moving forward.

On set, Mann and cinematographer Robert E. Collins aimed to make the style of Vice as striking as possible by frequently altering lens lengths, employing long, intricate crane shots like those found in major Hollywood productions, and illuminating night scenes with intense, sharply defined lights that created deep shadows. “The intensity of working 22 hours per season compared to six or eight or nine or ten was both a test and an exhilaration,” Mann explains. “In terms of both scriptwriting and actual filming: we shot each hour in just seven days.” The secret to maintaining productivity, according to Mann, was devising systems that resulted in visually daring moments on screen, yet were also cost-effective. We often used large lamps to cast dark shadows without considering fill light. This approach was referred to as chiaroscuro, and it took 15 minutes to set up the lighting!

Mann and his team pledged to saturate each scene with vibrant hues. However, achieving this wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. As Mann recounts, “When I first arrived in Miami, it felt like a vast expanse of tan paint had been leftover from World War II and was used to coat the entire city!” Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the colors used during the streamlined Art Deco era of 1920s and 1930s Miami were not the monochromatic tones initially assumed; instead, they employed pastel shades. This discovery sparked Mann’s curiosity about how various colors could evoke a sense of warmth. Thus, we began to experiment with subtle color conflicts, such as using a delicate yellow alongside a pale blue or turquoise against pink. Essentially, our efforts aimed to restore the true essence of Miami.

The result of all this imaginative labor was one of the most innovative pilots ever made for commercial TV. It created a stylebook that not only defined the rest of Vice (which aired 111 episodes) but drew praise as a beautiful object in itself. Hammer says that when he watched the first cut of the pilot, he was unprepared “for how beautiful it was. I thought, Wow — this is actually like something that I would watch.”

Television series with unique styles had emerged before the 1980s, ranging from the dark expressionism of “The Twilight Zone” to the colorful spectacles of early “Batman” and “Star Trek”, the gritty realism of “MASH” and “Hill Street Blues”. However, nothing quite compared to the groundbreaking show “Vice”. It took the experimental techniques from international and art-house cinema from the 1960s to the mid-’80s and adapted them for a TV series. It didn’t just create a world, but a distinct atmosphere – sometimes, the mood was the world itself. The creative team of Yerkovich, Mann, and Carter, along with the ensemble cast led by Johnson, Thomas, Saundra Santiago as Gina, Olivia Brown as Trudy, Michael Talbott as Switek, and John Diehl as Zito, worked flawlessly together. “Vice” had a heartbeat, a character, an identity all its own.

The pilot’s opening scene, which was unusually lengthy for network television, showcases Tubbs (who hasn’t been introduced as a cop yet) chasing Calderone around New York but ultimately failing to arrest him at a nightclub. The scene concludes with a still shot of frustrated Tubbs standing in a dim alleyway, followed swiftly by the credits. This dramatic, film-like start mirrors real footage from 1984 Miami and uses fast-paced music by Hammer, while only listing the main cast members without showing their faces (a common practice on TV back then). At the bottom of the screen, a notice announced “In Stereo.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=PJu07uYJWx4?si=4ugXe-jDEW3ajcGN

In the finale of the pilot, the haunting atmosphere of “Vice” is amplified as Crockett and Tubbs head towards Calderone’s stronghold at the docks while Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” plays powerfully in the background. The deep-seated grief within brotherless Tubbs intertwines with the self-destructive melancholy of Crockett, who has just discovered that a fellow officer, his confidant, is on Calderone’s payroll. This mesmerizing, foreboding sequence, unprecedented in network TV, features Crockett and Tubbs traveling mostly in silence, punctuated by occasional dialogue and the sound of Tubbs loading his shotgun. The narrative unfolds with Crockett stopping at what appears to be a harbor-side French bistro, stepping out to call his estranged wife, Caroline (Belinda Montgomery), and asking, “Weren’t our days together genuine… wasn’t it?” Afterward, Crockett returns to the car, speeds away, and the sequence reverts to Crockett and Tubbs heading towards the docks. The transition from the phone-booth scene to the road seamlessly aligns with the cosmic rhythm, arriving just after Collins’ iconic drum fill.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=oRoXFv6acAo?si=ZeuUgIZ2jqZe96QQ

Initially, “In the Air Tonight” was played in a different context – it was featured in the 1983 film Risky Business during a love scene. However, its integration into the Miami Vice pilot was so seamless that some viewers mistakenly believed it was specifically composed for that scene. The drums and vocals were slightly recessed with an echo effect, giving listeners the sensation of being in a hollow space. Over time, “In the Air Tonight” became synonymous with Miami Vice, despite its release as a single in 1981 and subsequent use in other films and series, such as FX’s The Americans. Just two days after the pilot aired, Carter recalls hearing the song on the radio, with the DJ announcing it as coming from Miami Vice. He was astounded, thinking, “Wow! Oh my God. The show had instantly claimed the song.

In their own words, Mann, Yerkovich, and Carter discuss different aspects of the “In the Air Tonight” sequence:

Carter highlights an aspect that might initially go unnoticed when viewers are deeply engaged in the plot: The scene lacks the usual sounds of roaring engines or swishing storefronts as Crockett and Tubbs traverse the city. Instead, the sequence is surprisingly silent, save for select dialogue, intentional sound effects, and Collins’s tune. Carter explains that removing certain elements can be impactful, creating an atmosphere and drawing viewers in, even without a clear reason. The end result leaves viewers questioning the passage of time: “Did it take a minute? Thirty seconds? Two minutes?

Apart from the pilot, Miami Vice’s first season stood out as one of the most impressive debut seasons of its decade. It consistently delivered hour after hour of compelling content, such as the flawless portrayal of “Evan” featuring a young William Russ as a closeted gay cop. The show stirred debates about its portrayal of sex, violence, and drug use. It quickly became one of the coolest shows on television, attracting a diverse range of guest stars, from musicians to real-life political figures. Notable guests included Miles Davis, Frank Zappa, G. Gordon Liddy, Sheena Easton, Vanity, Captain Lou Albano, Chrysler boss Lee Iacocca, Leonard Cohen, and Willie Nelson. The show also served as a stepping stone for future stars like Liam Neeson, Bruce Willis, and Luis Guzman, who all made their mark on the series before becoming household names. In essence, Miami Vice captured lightning in a bottle, boosting the careers of everyone involved.

Miami Vice garnered an impressive 15 Emmy nominations, surpassing Hill Street Blues. In a 1985 Time magazine cover story titled “Cool Cops, Hot Show,” Joshua Brand, then a producer for Steven Spielberg’s anthology series Amazing Stories, commented on the show’s success: “The success of Miami Vice demonstrates that people appreciate production values, lighting, and sound quality from their TV sets.” However, in a 1985 Rolling Stone interview, creator Michael Mann responded modestly to the acclaim received by the show, stating, “Miami Vice appears revolutionary because television has been so traditional for such a long time. We’re not inventing anything new; we’re just current. And if our show stands out from other TV shows, it’s because most of TV isn’t even contemporary.

In this context, Mann, Carter, and Yerkovich all acknowledge that their colleagues significantly influenced the unique artistic style of the show, “Miami Vice,” which retained a consistent yet flexible identity across five seasons and various management shifts. Yerkovich likens the core creative team to Aspen trees, interconnected through a common root system. Toward the end of its run, Dick Wolf took over production, but the visual and auditory appeal of “Vice” remained impressive, despite Wolf’s reputation for style not being particularly commendable in his long-standing television career. Mann clarifies in this interview that he built upon the ideas presented in Yerkovich’s script, enhancing them before taking over when Yerkovich departed to create another NBC neo-noir series, “Private Eye,” featuring Michael Woods and a young Josh Brolin. Mann emphasizes that he did not solely create “Miami Vice”; Tony Yerkovich was the primary creator. Carter also praises the vision in Yerkovich’s script, while Yerkovich reminds this interviewer on four occasions that it was Carter who directed the “In the Air Tonight” sequence and selected the song.

Reflecting back, the “In the Air Tonight” segment marked a significant turning point for television, much like the impact of the Stargate sequence at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey on cinema. I remember reading a critic’s review of the pilot where they talked about how the phone booth shot was composed, which was quite unusual for TV critics back then as they rarely discussed visual aspects. This particular critic compared the phone booth shot to Jean-Luc Godard’s Alphaville, which left me, a 15-year-old high school student in Dallas, completely baffled since I had no idea who Godard was or what Alphaville was. To top it off, I doubt that either concept had ever been linked to a cop show before.

The film Vice stimulated such analysis due to its creators being avid, passionate film enthusiasts who openly expressed their love for cinema. My initial discussion with Mann, dating back over three decades, revolved around the deliberate use of basic, repeated music and strategically timed cuts in the climactic action sequence of The Last of the Mohicans, which were intended to manipulate the audience’s sense of time, making five minutes of action feel like an unending nightmare. This technique is echoed throughout the entirety of Vice, regardless of who directed each episode.

However, when the season-two premiere titled “Prodigal Son” aired in the fall of 1985, it was apparent that the show was overemphasizing its unique traits, particularly with music intended to heighten an epic atmosphere during less engaging narrative moments. This was evident in an episode where Crockett and Tubbs were sent to New York on assignment, allowing Tubbs to reconnect with his former lover, played by the legendary blaxploitation actress Pam Grier. The overuse of music such as Glenn Frey’s “You Belong to the City,” which was extensively played during Crockett’s walk around Manhattan, served only to extend the episode’s runtime. According to creator Michael Mann, it is crucial not to let the style of a production overshadow its content, as style is merely meant to amplify and enrich the substance; if it becomes the focus, it risks becoming empty and meaningless.

Despite some deviations and missteps, the impressive ensemble of “Vice” kept delivering standout episodes even during its fourth and fifth seasons. However, these later seasons started to lose their edge, becoming more lighthearted and exaggerated as they attempted to spice things up by having Crockett develop amnesia, causing him to believe he was his drug-dealing persona, Sonny Burnett. Some of my personal favorites from seasons two through five include “Out Where the Buses Don’t Run,” with an unforgettable dark humor punchline; “Bushido,” where Castillo uses a samurai sword against gun-wielding assassins; “Forgive Us Our Debts,” in which Crockett becomes convinced of a man’s innocence after sending him to prison for murder; and “Down for the Count,” where Zito goes undercover as a boxing manager to take down a corrupt bookie. As Tony departed after 16 episodes, Mann left to work on “Manhunter” in ’86 and then “Crime Story” afterwards. He reflects, “The distinctive style of the show, the writing of Tony’s pilot, the casting of Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas, had so firmly established Crockett, Tubbs, and their world that it was extremely challenging to alter the series and make it average.

Throughout its entire run, Miami Vice offered a wealth of aspects to admire, according to Carter, who remained captivated by the series despite not directing any episodes beyond the pilot (a decision he voluntarily made, preferring instead the creative process at the outset). “The show presented both advantages and disadvantages,” he noted. “On the positive side, it introduced a multitude of characters that were rarely seen on television before, thus offering a glimpse into a diverse range of faces and thoughts. On the flip side, these characters didn’t always work as intended. However, there were moments when the narrative, music, and visual elements of Miami Vice would come together in a way that was powerfully engaging – a unique experience not replicated on other television shows.

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2024-09-19 16:55